simplicity
by tmcala
Summary: /So what? Maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe he's Stan and you're Kyle and you've been attached at the hip since before you could wipe your own asses./ -Kyan/Style-


**simplicity~**

"It was _Butters_, Stan," Kyle stated, slightly exasperated at his best friend's behavior.

The other boy moaned into the pillow beneath him, hitching thick covers over his shoulders. "It was Butters and he _turned me down_," Stan replied. Kyle could hear the threat of tears beneath the words. He didn't like when people cried.

The redhead glanced around Stan's room. It was dark, due to drawn blinds and turned off lights, and messy and smelled like Stan hadn't left in days. Which he hadn't. Slowly, Kyle began picking up his friend's floor. "Do you even like Butters?" he asked. "Or did you feel obligated?"

"Of course I like him!" Stan scoffed. "What are you even saying?"

Kyle flipped the light switch on, walked over to Stan's bed, and roughly yanked the comforter off. "I'm saying Butters is the only other gay kid at school, and you like him? The probability of that is really low. Now, get your ass out of bed."

Stand whined and flipped Kyle off as he sat up in bed. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, looking even more oily black than usual, due to the fact that he hadn't washed it in God knows how long. He picked a WWF T-shirt with a panda on it off his floor, sniffed it, shrugged, and pulled it over his slim shoulders. "OK," Stan turned to Kyle, grimacing. "Let's go."

The pair headed down the stairs, Stan slightly ahead of his red haired best friend. Kyle was much taller than Stan, and bulkier, due to the fact that he was the best basketball player at Park County High. It was often pointed out that Stan and Kyle had more or less switched roles over the years. While Kyle flourished, ridiculously smart, athletic, tall, Stan became what Cartman liked to call "a fucking pussy".

After Wendy broke up with him for the 8th or 9th or maybe 10th time, Stan had another impromptu friendship with the goth kids. He stopped playing sports, became a pacifist, and, despite the threat of a faceful of vaginas, went back to vegetarianism. While the goth stage of his life was mostly over, Stan still sometimes dressed a little depressingly and there were some kids who called him "Raven" around school.

Then, to top off his title as person Cartman hated most, in theory, Stan came out as gay.

"Kenny's coming to get us," Kyle told the shorter boy.

Stan groaned slightly. "Could you tell him not to flirt with me? I'm not in the mood."

There was something about Kenny's playful flirting with Stan that rubbed Kyle in the entirely wrong direction. It was harmless, as most things Kenny did were, and it definitely didn't mean anything, but Kyle couldn't help but bristle any time that predatory grin eased across Kenny's face. "It won't do any good," he muttered as Stan poured himself a glass of OJ.

"It's worth a shot, right?"

Kyle nodded and agreed, even though he had no intention of saying anything to Kenny. It turned out that he didn't really need to anyway. Kenny did nothing more than kiss Stan chastely on the cheek and pull him up against his side for the ride to school. Kenny's truck had a bench seat that would've been a squeeze for the three of them if Stan and Kenny weren't so thin. That wasn't to say Kyle enjoyed driving to school with his hip right up against Stan's. OK, he actually didn't mind that part; he'd always liked being close to Stan. The point was they only drove to school in Kenny's car because it was important that Kenny felt like he contributed.

It was exhausting to be the best friend of Kenny McCormick and Stan Marsh. Kyle would never dream of saying this to anyone, since he knew how the world viewed them. They were perfect. In a constant, private world that only the three of them and _occasionally_ Cartman belonged to. But, the aforementioned fact was only becoming truer and truer as Kenny's family struggled and Stan angsted.

They pulled into the school parking lot, which was a little over half full. Kenny was searching for the closest parking spot, grinning when he found a perfect one. "Kenny!" Stan shouted suddenly.

"What?" Kenny asked, annoyed.

"That's Butters' car. You can't park here."

Kenny rolled his eyes, as did Kyle, and pulled into the spot. "Tough titties, darling," he replied.

Stan looked devastated, giving Kyle the look he always did when he expected the ginger to solve his problems. Instead of saying anything, Kyle opened his door and climbed down from the truck. Knowing he'd lost, Stan followed suit. His feet dangled out the door, searching for the ground, and his t-shirt rode up the slightest bit, showing barely an inch of late summer tanned skin. Kyle was very temped to reach out and wrap his fingers around Stan's waist, brush his thumb against the skin.

These weird thoughts had been occurring more and more lately. Kyle chalked them up to pity. He could pretty much have any girl he wanted and Stan's dating pool consisted of only Butters, who apparently wasn't interested.

Stan had begun stalking off toward the school, obviously still mad at his two friends. Kyle hung back, waiting for Kenny to get his backpack from the truck's bed. "Don't think I don't notice," Kenny said, out of the blue.

"Notice what?" Kyle asked.

Kenny began walking towards the school and Kyle followed. "The way you look at him, dipshit," Kenny supplied. Kyle tried to look like he didn't have any idea what Kenny was talking about. "If he bent over, you'd be on that skinny ass like white on rice."

Kyle rolled his eyes. Kenny often knew what was up; Kyle would give him that. But even if this was true, he didn't need to be so damn blunt about it. "I'm not gay," he answered simply.

"So what? Maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe he's Stan and you're Kyle and you've been attached at the hip since before you could wipe your own asses. So maybe you're not gay. Maybe you're….Stan-sexual," Kenny grinned. "I'm damn good at this shit, analysis or whatever."

The redhead hated to think that maybe Kenny had a point. If he let himself stop obsessing over the labels, would he find he thought differently about his best friend? Maybe these feelings he'd been having weren't pity or even simply friendly. Kyle didn't know if he really wanted to delve into this, but he knew he didn't want to do it at 8 AM. Morning was a time for things that always made sense. Like AP Calculus and Human Biology. He told Kenny this and the blond laughed, grabbing Kyle's ass as he turned to walk down a different hallway.

Kyle sat next to Butters in Calculus. They hadn't really talked yet about his rejection of Stan. Kyle hadn't known how to bring it up. He actually didn't know anything about it beyond that it happened, since he hadn't wanted to upset Stan further by asking for details. Their teacher, an ancient woman barely qualified to teach the subject, began passing out problem sets and Kyle turned to Butters. "Hey," he said.

Butters looked up from his backpack, which he had been rummaging through. "Oh! H-hi, Kyle." They didn't talk much in class. They basically only sat next to each other out of familiarity. Butters was Kyle's only "friend" in this class and vice versa. It was mainly North Park kids, who actually had had decent educations prior. The dumbest North Parkers were smarter than most of the average South Park kids.

"It's OK if you don't want to talk about it or whatever," Kyle started, "but, why did you turn Stan down? Like, what'd you say, I guess? Cuz, no offense, but I didn't get the impression that he was like in love with you, and he was in full force 'dumped' mode."

Butters looked kind of nervous, like he didn't know whether he should tell Kyle or not. "Well, none taken, Kyle. I just told Stan the truth, I reckon. It was nothing against him; Stan's a great guy." He stopped, eyes scanning the room. Nobody was listening, though, too caught up in integrals. "You really wanna know what I told him?"

Kyle nodded. He remember why he and Butters didn't talk much. It took forever to get even the littlest things out of the guy. Kyle simply lacked the patience.

"I told him I thought he should wait for you," Butters said with a long sigh. He cowered under the glare Kyle shot him. "It's the truth and I don't regret it one bit!"

Turning his attention to the problems, Kyle muttered, "Why did everyone choose today to let me know that I'm perceived as gay?"

The blond boy shrugged. "You and Stan are just meant to be, I think."

Butters' and Kenny's words followed Kyle throughout the rest of the day. He barely listened in any of his classes, which was fine really, he didn't need to. Basketball season hadn't officially started yet. But the team always got together to play a pick-up game after school and Kyle's head wasn't in that either. He was pretty well liked on the team, considering he was the only South Park kid on it (not only were North Park kids smarter, they were also more athletic ad richer. The only thing South Park had going for it was attractiveness), but he could tell his teammates were getting pissed when he missed his fifth 3-pointer of the day.

He left the game early, claiming a shit-ton of homework, and he chose to walk home instead of calling Kenny or trying to hitch a ride with someone else. Kyle enjoyed the fall breeze that would, within a week or two, turn to bitter winter. Stan was terribly damaged right now. If he wasn't Kyle would suggest they just try some things out, see what his feelings really meant. But, he knew he couldn't do that to Stan right now. His friend needed someone who wanted him and was sure of it. Kyle wasn't sure he wanted Stan in the way Stan needed to be wanted. Or even that Stan wanted Kyle to want him in that way. Maybe Stan wanted Kyle to want him in a friendly way and someone else to want him in the other way.

The ginger's head was beginning to hurt. And the ginger's feet were slyly leading him towards the Marsh residence.

Kyle missed his friend. His friend who was sometimes just as passionate and hard-headed as he was. His friend who loved animals, football, and guitar hero. His friend with the red puff ball hat. His friend who he knew would give anything for him. The Stan he drove to school with this morning, the Stan who had scarcely left his bed the past week, that was not his Stan. Kyle would do anything to have his Stan back.

His pace picked up to a jog. This Stan was sad. He was in a rut. All he needed was someone to dig him out. It was Kyle's job to save Stan. It had been for as long as it was Stan's job to save Kyle. When they were kids, it was always Kyle that needed reassurance (usually about his hair), but back then Stan was the perfect one. The roles were reversed in so many ways now.

The houses were all blurring together now, but Kyle was certain he'd know when to stop. He knew he was frantic and probably looked like a madman, but he also knew if he stopped and though this through logically, he'd pussy out. And he would never see Stan smile again. That was probably an exaggeration, but it had been so long since he had seen that goofy Marsh smile on the other boys face.

When he got to that house, the one that was as good as his own, he was going to run up the stairs and kiss his super best friend square on the mouth. Because that seemed like the right thing to do and figured there was no better way to determine how exactly it was he felt. However, he'd had more clarity on this cross-county run than he'd had in weeks, which made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. Kenny was people-smart and Butters was smart-smart, and if they both said Kyle loved Stan. Then Kyle probably loved Stan.

Well, of course he loved him. But he just wasn't sure how. Which loops back to the complex wanting thing.

Kyle slowed back down to a jog as he neared Stan's house, just letting himself in the front door as he had been for years now. He ran up the stairs and down the hallway and _shit_, when was the last time he'd been this excited about anything? Flinging open Stan's door, Kyle found him tucked in bed, shades drawn, curtatins pulled. He wasn't surprised.

"Dude?" Stan asked, drowsily.

With all the confidence his revelation had instilled, Kyle stalked over to Stan's bed, put a hand on his friend's shoulder, and pressed their lips together.

They were kissing.

They were kissing and it was like nothing else mattered. Kyle didn't envy Stan for getting to fill the role of sidekick, something he had enjoyed as a child. Stan didn't feel self-conscious or wrong or bad or lost in this new thing that he was. They were Stan and Kyle and that was that. It was simple, just like Kenny said.

It took a while for them to process what was going on, but within seconds, Kyle was pulled on top of Stan, on the sheets that _desperately_ needed washing. Stan pulled away first, pressing his forehead against Kyle's. "I came out hoping that you would too," he admitted. "And then you didn't. I didn't know what to do. You're, like, my soul mate, I think."

Kyle laughed breathily. "That's what Butters said to me today, more or less." Kyle cupped a hand around Stan's cheek. He wondered how he had ever missed how beautiful Stan was, in that small-featured, pristine way of his. "Fuck, I'm sorry I'm a moron."

"It's OK," Stan replied, reaching up to capture Kyle's lips again. "You're here now. And…sweaty, did you like run here or something?"

He nodded in response. "I had an epiphany. I needed my Stan back." Kyle's hand moved down to Stan's hip, pushing up the t-shirt to expose the skin that had so captivated him earlier. It was everything he'd hoped. Smooth and tan and perfect. A groan caught in his throat. He was beginning to get hard, which he told himself was a good, but that didn't mean it still wasn't a little bit weird.

Stan let Kyle slide his t-shirt off. "We were meant to be together like this. It's the way things are supposed to be. I can feel it," the dark haired boy murmured.

"Gay, much?" Kyle laughed. "Besides, I thought I was supposed to be the one who fell for all that bullshit like fate and obscure religions."

Stan laughed too. And smiled that goofy Marsh smile. "Don't be talking to me about gay when I can totally feel your boner on my leg." Kyle blushed. "And, you know, I've learned something recently," Stan continued, tucking his head beneath Kyle's chin. "We don't fit into labels the way people want us to. I'm not the one who does that and you're not the one who does this. We're just kind of…the same."

Kyle hugged his friend as tight as he could. Stan was right. It didn't matter if Kyle quit basketball tomorrow or flunked a class. And if didn't matter if Stan went to the store a bought huge steak for dinner or ended up as quarterback for the Denver Broncos. He was still Kyle and he was still Stan. They were soul mates or made for each other or meant to be or however you wanted to put it. Kyle wanted to take care of Stan for the rest of his life. That was what his passionate, beautiful, fragile friend needed. That was the way it always had been, one way or another.

They were Stan and Kyle. And it was that simple.

* * *

**A/N: This is such a mess, but parts are good and I am just getting into the swing of things again. I've never really written much Style and I really just wanted to do something a little different. I ADORE sweetheart, jock Stan just as much as the next girl, but after a while, I feel bad for Kyle. He is really just as boyish as the rest on the show, so I decided to give him a chance to...potentially top when they fucked? I still don't know if it even worked. I'd love to hear what y'all thought! thanks for reading! :))**


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